Dark and Dangerous
by EliadetheAkuma
Summary: The story of a mysterious Nightstalker named Acacia Danika, whom has begun a road trip across the country, leaving behind only vampire corpses. With a dark past behind her, she sets her eyes on a new future as an agent of peace. However, her past will catch up to her and her new friends begin to wonder if she can face her past, or if she will fall prey to the darkness.
1. Rage

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

The figure looked through the dark black hairs covering her face at the water dripping from the pipe. She watched as it fell down, hitting the floor. She heard it with a hearing that was very advanced, the water sounding loud, echoing as loud as a scream. She breathed deeply and tilted her head back, throwing the hair from her face and looking at the sunlight streaming in through the bars on the windows. She grinned, showing crimson teeth.

The metal door in front of her opened and she quickly snapped back straight, setting her left eye on the men that entered. The first to enter was a short, fat man with beefy fingers and fat lips. He was dressed in a fine blue suit with a plaid blue and black tie. He stepped off to the side, watching her closely with his observant, green eyes. The second man was a well-built, tall man in a finer, silk-looking suit. He had a handsome face and death-dealing black eyes. The third was the finest-looking man, seeming very rich and famous. He was dressed in one of the higher up suits that were worn by people like Senators or billionaires who buy things that aren't for sell. He took three steps toward her, keeping a safe distance from her but being close enough to speak to her and be understood.

"I would like you to tell me what you are doing here." He responded, looking at her in a intimidating manner.

"You think I'm afraid of you? You're a prick with money. That doesn't impress me!" She spit the blood from her mouth and watched happily as the blood landed as a splatter on that fine suit of his.

He laughed, showing off his sharp teeth. He looked up at the ceiling, continuing to laugh loudly. He stopped laughing suddenly and looked to the fat man who stood in the far corner. He rushed forward with an inhuman speed. She suddenly felt a strong burning to her face and found that she had hit the cement behind her, the chains pulling on her wrists.

She spit the blood from her mouth and slowly rose from the position, placing herself so that she was kneeling with her head down. Blood continued to drip from her mouth, forming a puddle. The fat man stepped back, awaiting another "order" from his master to hit her. She coughed, feeling the liquid begin to fill her throat. She coughed one final time, successfully clearing her throat of the invading liquid.

"That was very good, but you could probably do better." Was her response and then a laugh.

"Alastair, do what you wish with her. Just…" Mr. Rich Asshole looked to the fat man with a sinister smile. He reflected the smile and the other two left. She looked to the fat man, "Alastair" as he walked towards her. He grabbed her head of black roughly and forced her head to go back. She glared at him.

"You ever been with a vamp before?" He demanded, shaking her head slightly in intimidation.

"No, and I ain't gonna start now."

"You ain't got a choice, bitch." He slammed her down onto the cement behind her, forcing her down onto her back. His heavy body quickly followed and she gagged in disgust. He grabbed rough hold of her throat, but within three seconds, had released her throat and sat on top of her abdomen, crushing her with his weight.

"You bitch, what the fu-?" He paused as the silver flashed under the light coming from the window.

"I wear a cross, asshole." She responded.

It seemed he contemplated ripping it off for a moment, but chose not to as he grabbed rough hold of the hems of her jacket and ripped outward, successfully unbuttoning the invading clothing and actually ripping two buttons from their sewn positions. She narrowed her eyes at him and roughly moved her leg to nail him in the nuts, but he caught it with his hand and roughly shoved it down. He moved his legs and placed them over hers, successfully preventing the same outburst. She fought against him as he attempted to remove her black top, successfully punching him in the nose at least one more time. However, he pinned her wrists down on her left side with one hand.

"W-wait." She spoke quickly.

"What?!" He demanded.

"Please, let go of my hands. I won't fight, my wrists they hurt from the cuffs…Please…it hurts."

He gently released her wrists slowly, before placing his hands erotically on her black pants, beginning to undo her belt. She moved in a matter of moments, wrapped her arms around his neck and flipped herself from underneath him and over the top of him. She grabbed his neck with her chain and wrapping the chain twice around his neck, she tightened the chain as much as she could. He struggled against her, kicking the floor and tightly grabbing at the chain. With one hand, he grasped her hair but she remained her hold on the chain. He pulled roughly on the chain and it broke, causing her to move and flip them so that he was on his back. She tapped her boot on the ground, a silver blade sliding out. She lifted her body and slammed the knife into the crotch of his pants. She slammed her blood-stained lips onto his, smothering his scream of pain as he died, catching fire and turning to dust.

She stood and turned to the door, which was unlocked. She grinned and spat to the side.

"Get ready 'cause I am coming to get you, dick."


	2. Hate

French fries.

French fries were the one thing that made life (and an afterlife) worth living. No, seriously. They had such an American salty taste that was beyond delectable and delicious. Scrumptious wouldn't even describe it, either. If there was anything she could always love, it would be French fries. After all, French fries would never betray her, bite her and leave her for dead, or kill her. Well, maybe it could. Who knew? All she knew was that she loved –

"Um, miss? We're closing…"

She looked up at the waitress with annoyance, abandoning her romance with her French fries. The waitress shivered underneath her lethal look, swearing she saw sharp fangs behind the snarling woman's red lips. However, she managed to form another sentence.

"W-would you like some more…fries?" She swallowed thickly.

"Yes." She grinned broadly. "I would."

Water poured from the shower, falling down like rain and washing the blood away. She brushed her hand through her dark hair, breathing deeply. She was tired, something she was all too used to. She studied the white shower wall with quiet eyes. She could feel the water running down her arm and running right off her index finger. She sighed deeply and touched her lower back, running her fingers over the green tattoo that branded her as property. She looked up, noticing the light from the street light streaming in through the small shower room. She kept her eyes focused on it as she crossed her legs and then brought them to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

She closed her eyes and found herself traveling back; back to being _his_ slave, his _little bitch_. The way he'd treated her had been more than enough to push her over the edge when she had finally broke. He didn't understand why she had broken, nor did he understand why she'd escaped from the House of Talos as fast as possible. After all, in his words, they had saved her and protected her from the lethal eye of humans and vampires alike, the latter of which actually meant Blade.

They had been wrong though. Blade, or rather someone Blade knew, had made a cure; a cure for vampirism. Instead of killing her, Blade gave her the cure and she returned human. Then, she became a Nightstalker and began to kill what she had been. Being a vampire had been such hell; controlling the thirst, having to be the one thing she hated more than anything, and…giving into the thirst.

She winced as she thought of all the people she had killed because of the thirst. They still haunted her dreams. She could still remember the taste of the iron in their blood, their heavy, decaying bodies, and worst of all, their blood all over her. It had killed _her_ to kill _them_ and all _he_ could say was "good job". Naturally, she began to see through the pain and realize that she was never meant to be a vampire. She was meant to kill them.

With a sigh, she stood and turned the water off. Pushing the beach shower curtain to the left, she grabbed the fluffy white towel from the toilet lid and wrapped it around herself. She stood on the rug and wrapped the towel around herself and tucking the corner in the towel. She stretched her body before walking over to the mirror. She grabbed one of the white wash cloths and did a single swipe across the mirror. She looked immediately at her eyes. They were a darker green then, resembling quiet, tranquil ocean waters. She narrowed her eyes at herself.

She looked like a ghost, hardly alive. She _felt_ so barren and silent, like an empty terrace of endless sand. She almost felt saddened, but instead felt numb, empty, and dark…a never-ending pit of nothingness. Her eyes reflected this; pits of endless darkness. It was almost like looking into a black hole...

She clenched her fist and slammed the side of her fist into the glass, shattering it entirely. Shards flew away from the frame and landed across the counter, floor and even went in the tub. She pulled her hand back to look at her fractured reflection. Lifting one of the blades of glass, she moved it until she could see her eyes, noticing that she had used her bloody hand to lift said glass. A smear of crimson covered her eyes from her view. She dropped the glass, shattering it into even smaller pieces. She placed her steps towards the bedroom carefully and avoided drawing any more of her blood.

She was tired and wanted to go to bed.


End file.
